I wanted to
by kayleighchaos093
Summary: Post-Inception fic. Arthur finally has a reason to see Ariadne again, though he'd never admit to anyone he wanted to in any way that wasnt strictly-professional. But he may have dragged her into a life or death situation. A/A, bit of Eames humor
1. The Beginning Prologue

**A/N: This is a sort of prologue to the story that's been bugging me to be written. Moments throughout the movie between Arthur and Ariadne to help explain the development of their relationship a little more thoroughly. Hope you enjoy it :)**

I. Beginnings

How Arthur met Cobb is irrelevant, how Cobb met Mal is even more so. Their love story means nothing, Arthur's history is nothing. It is the here and now, the love story that took everyone by surprise, especially the two main players; they never knew what hit them until they were too far in to turn back. That is the story relevant here.

The Beginnings of this story start with a job; impossible, but if they pull it off, Cobb is able to return to his children for the first time in almost a year. The job brings Arthur the satisfaction of seeing his long time friend at peace, and though in the end he wins a large sum of money, it's inconsequential. He has more than enough to live a long, luxurious life.

But the job brought so much more then that...

**a/a**

Arthur stood with his impeccable posture, hands in the pockets of his finely pressed slacks, leaning against a pillar in the middle of their warehouse, admiring the arrangement he had managed to whip up in about twenty minutes. The warehouse had six desks available, though as of that moment only three would require use.

The distinct noise of the doors opening just beyond his view made him turn and face the entrance where Cobb and their new architect would show up, if he had even succeeded in finding one. Carefully, he straitened his tie beneath his vest, smoothed back his hair and picked a stray piece of lint from his pants, flicking it casually into the air.

He could hear Cobbs voice, accompanied by one that was distinctly feminine.

"What exactly are we doing here?" He heard the woman ask, her voice echoing off of the walls.

"Test run; you need to get a feel for the field before we decide if you live up to Miles's praise."

They rounded the corner, and Arthur could barely contain his skepticism. A young girl of maybe twenty three walked by his side, eyes wide in wonder as she looked about the warehouse. She carried a messenger bag that looked laden with books, more than likely of the school type. A College student?

Her scanning eyes met his skeptical ones, and he could not help but notice their color brown.

He stared at her for a moment, and then remembered himself. Stepping forward he offered her his hand. "Arthur." was all he said. He rarely gave out his last name; actually, he never did anymore.

She raised an eyebrow, but took his hand never-the-less, "Ariadne."

_Ariadne, _The name echoed in his mind, and he wondered at where such a distinctive name came from. It suited her though.

He let go of her hand after a second, returning it to his pocket.

"Arthur's our point man."

"Point man?" she asked, watching as Cobb pulled the PASIV out and laid it on the table.

"I do the research," he specified, and she still looked as if she had no idea what he meant. He glanced at Cobb, "How much does she know?"

"Not much, yet." He gestured that Arthur and Ariadne should come over to where he was. The two walked over in companionable silence.

They were quickly under, Arthur setting the timer to five minutes and sitting back to wait for their eyes to open, to help Ariadne through her first experience waking up after dream sharing.

He took the opportunity to really study her this time. Her hair was thin and curved softly, framing her face. A strand lay, stuck to her pink lips, which were slightly parted. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, wondering at the girl's talent that Miles had apparently commended so highly.

Her eyes opened, and she gasped for breath. He was there in an instant, taking the line out of her wrist, resting a consoling hand on her arm, whispering words of comfort.

Her eyes met his, and he smiled to comfort her. That was all, a smile to reassure her. It was nothing else, meant nothing else.

They went under again, waking up before the clock had run out.

"That's some subconscious you've got on you Cobb!" she had cried, as he tried to explain a totem to her. Ah, she had met Mal. Well, in a way. The Mal that haunted Cobb's subconscious was not quite the same women she had been in real life.

There was something in the way she spoke, stood up to Cobb in a way not many would, that made him like her instantly. He smiled appreciatively, even as she stood to walk out of their lives. The red jacket she held in her hand brushed over his shoulder, and he caught a vague pleasant smell that must have been hers.

"She'll be back," Cobb reassured him.

He found himself hoping that she would.

**a.a**

"Now, there are other ways to fool projections, not just the steps," he told her, as they walked through the glassy office building. She had returned with an eagerness to return to the world of creations, and he had been happy to oblige.

As they explored, he the teacher, she the student, he got to know her just a little better. When she asked a question of him he wasn't comfortable in answering, he explained to her the danger of his history being known.

He noticed she tucked her hair behind her ears, a lot. But she never pulled it back, even though she could. He wondered why.

He noticed that she smirked when she looked at his tie, an innocent enough design. He wondered why.

He saw on the Penrose steps, how her eyes traveled the length of his body, and back up again to meet his eyes, without seeming to know she had. He was flattered, but none the less, he wondered why.

He wondered, and wondered, and as he showed her one of the various ways to make a door out of the most common objects, he wondered at himself as well.

Why did he feel the need to figure out the puzzle this girl, Ariadne, was, feeling like if he didn't, he'd regret it.

**a.a**

He couldn't remember ever being closer to someone besides Cobb.

Arthur stayed up late at night, just thinking about how unconditionally he trusted Ariadne, and their fast growing companionship.

He thought about her a lot.

And on the increasingly rare nights he dreamt, she was there.

And he always woke up feeling guilty about the extremely unprofessional way his subconscious saw her.

**a.a**

Unprofessional-ism, that's what it had been.

But as he drove Ariadne home, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Ariadne had stayed later then she usually did, so thoroughly immersed in her work that it had not occurred to her that she had a bus to catch, or that if she missed it she had no way home.

He had wandered out of a back room, pulling on a coat and turning off lights as he went. Then he noticed her, sitting at her desk with only her desk light and sketches to accompany her. Her models were scattered along the floor, her hair clipped in a hasty twist on the back of her head, eyebrows furrowed... bottom lip caught between her teeth...

He hadn't realized he was staring at her until she made a sudden movement to stretch. He mentally shook himself and wandered over to her desk.

"Why are you still here so late?" he asked, making her jump.

"What?" She looked around, perhaps noticing for the first time that everyone else had left, that the moon was high in the sky. Her eyes widened. "Oh no, I've missed my bus."

"Did you?" He asked, unaware that she had to rely on public transportation. She could just borrow one of his cars. After all, he had two hidden in long term parking garages on opposite ends of the city. But they would probably be a little too conspicuous for a struggling college student.

Ariadne sighed, putting down her pencil that was looking a little worse for wear. He thought he might even see teeth marks on it. "I guess I could sleep in the chairs," She said, looking apprehensively towards the lawn chairs they used when they went under.

Arthur chuckled lightly, "You'll regret that decision in the morning. Come on, I'll take you home," He told her, picking her fallen coat up from the floor and handing it to her.

She didn't take it right away, "You don't have to." she said dully.

"I insist," he told her, holding the coat a little closer. And she took it with a thankful smile playing on her lips.

As she stood, she swung her coat over to pull her arms through, and it brushed the papers on her desk, sending them to the floor. "Damn," she muttered, and they both went down to pick them up. He started a neat pile, and she handed them to him in a not so neat pile. He stood, placed them on her desk and extended a hand towards her.

Ariadne's hand slipped into his, and it was warm and small, and it felt right. He pulled her up and said nothing. They merely stared at each other for a moment, her hand still in his, eyes holding the others', until the color rising to her cheeks reminded him that this was work. He was a professional. She was Ariadne, he was Arthur. There was no 'and' connecting their names. They were co workers. Friends.

Nothing more.

The car was silent except for her quiet instructions to her home that he already knew, as was dictated by his job position, though he didn't point that out to her. He pulled up to the curb of her apartment complex, as close as he could get to her actual apartment.

Arthur looked over and realized she was asleep, and gently woke her up. It was a losing battle. She mumbled a bit about staircases and coffee, earning a rare genuine, full smile from Arthur. He got out of the car and opened her door, trying once more to wake her.

"Arthur... the steps," she sighed. His name, escaping her lips in that breathy way made him stare at her in wonder.

Friends. Coworkers. He reminded himself.

But she didn't want to wake, and he himself needed to get home, so he chooses the only option available to him. Quietly, he detached her keys from her bag, and lifted her into his arms. Careful not to jostle her too much, he climbed the two flights of stairs required, and delicately unlocked the door to her apartment. She made herself comfortable, grasping onto his vest and pulling herself closer. He held his breath for a moment, and then plunged onward, barley taking in his surroundings as he went for the only closed door in the apartment, hoping it was her bedroom.

It was, and gently, he set her down, taking off her shoes and putting the blanket over her. He put her bag down next to her bed, and went in search of paper and pen.

He left her a note, then quietly disappeared into the night.

_Ariadne,_

_You fell asleep, and stubbornly would not wake up. _

_I hope you don't mind my invasion of your home. Sleep in tomorrow, I'll let Cobb know you had a late night._

_You deserve it,_

_Arthur_

**a.a**

After weeks of research, of planning, of spending countless hours in the dream space helping Ariadne learn the ropes since no one else could spare the time, it was time. He was fairly confident that they had everything planned as best as they could, but deep inside he was still doubtful they could pull it off.

While he and Saito informed Cobb, he watched as Ariadne whispered urgently, a foreign feeling tightening in his gut as he watched them in each others confidences. When finally, Cobb turned to Saito, and informed him they would need another ticket for the plane.

Arthur glanced at Ariadne, who was watching Cobb with concern evident in her eyes. He felt fear replace the unknown feeling in his gut. She wasn't ready for whatever would be waiting for them three layers deep. She was hardly ready for one layer on a job like this.

He took a deep breath, and walked away. He couldn't care this much, it would jeopardize everything if he was too concerned for her safety and mental well-being. But despite this, he was reorganizing their plans to include Ariadne, and she would stay by his side as much as possible, professionalism be damned.

**a.a**

He was beyond furious with Cobb. His neglect to tell the whole truth put everyone there in danger of dropping into limbo, potentially driving them all mad. Cobb had been lucky, and everyone who was informed enough knew that Mal had not. The odds were not good. If only half of them would come out of limbo mentally intact...

He looked over at the confused, scared, betrayed looking Ariadne.

His anger towards Cobb flared hotter then it had been before.

**a.a**

"Cobb is drawing Fischer's attention to the strangeness of the dream, which is making his subconscious look for the dreamer; me." He told her, watching as men and women in business suits walked by, watching them. They needed something to distract them from him, but nothing was likely to work.

He didn't trust the Mr. Charles plan, and he knew they were all in danger of failing. If they failed, Cobb would be arrested when they landed, they would all have to go on the run from Cobol, Fischer's company... there was a very good likelihood that with two major corporations on their tails, most of them would be imprisoned, tortured, or killed. Possibly all three.

He glanced at Ariadne, who looked worried, but she was determined. He didn't want her to look so worried, even though she had every right to be.

The words tumbled out, a distraction, that's all it was.

"Quick, give me a kiss." he said, and without hesitation, she turned to face him, head tilted slightly to her right, and Arthur leaned in, closing the distance. Their lips met, and his chest tightened with the thrill of it, Ariadne's lips touching his. But they were working. They were friends. Coworkers. Nothing more.

He broke it off after a mere second, because he felt his body's urge for more. But he couldn't. he repeated his mantra over and over.

"They're still looking at us," she said.

A smile tugged at his lips. Arthur seemed to smile a lot more often around her. "Yeah, it was worth a shot," he said ironically, hearing the double meaning in his words. He stood. "We should get out of here."

He stood, and looked back to see her smiling as well.

**a.a**

Her eyes weren't opening.

Eames.

Eames was a prick, and though he would feel bad, Arthur could live with himself if Eames was caught in limbo. For the most part. But he opened his eyes.

Fischer's eyes opened, after a few seconds. Their mark was safe; all that remained to be seen was if their inception had worked. Arthur had no idea what had happened on the third level.

He gripped the railing on the elevator hard, his knuckles turning white.

Saito remained asleep, as did Cobb, and-

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as Ariadne opened her eyes-

Then he was suddenly surrounded by water, being offered oxygen by Yusuf as Fischer helped Browning, aka Eames out of the sinking van to the surface as well.

Saito and Cobb still were not awake, and he was forced to leave them in the sinking van.

Limbo, they were in limbo, Ariadne told him. She had been there too, and he was happy she was safe. But happy she was safe in a friendly coworker sort of way.

His face remained the same as ever as they discussed what had happened. She sounded okay, sure of herself, and of her reality.

He was glad.

When they all woke on the plane, he leaned forward to ask Ariadne if she was okay. With a soft smile she confirmed she was fine. It was another five minutes before Cobb and Saito came around.

**a.a**

He watched her find her bags on the carousel, and he watched Yusef and Eames leave through different entrances. He wasn't sure Saito had ever left the plane. He watched Cobb make it through immigration to meet his father-in-law, but most of all, he watched her.

She was walking away when he made up his mind to follow her.

"Ariadne," he said quietly when he was just behind her. She jumped, turning to face him with her hand plunged into her pocket, grasping onto what was surely her totem.

She visibly relaxed when she realized it was only him.

"Arthur," she breathed, looking around anxiously, "I thought we were supposed to pretend we didn't know each other-"

"I believe you dropped this on the plane miss," he said pointedly, and a little louder than necessary, handing her a slip of paper he'd had on him for almost a week now.

She caught on, taking the paper with a thank you. Arthur nodded, and held her gaze for a moment longer, and then he walked away from her, hoping more than he cared to admit that he would see her again soon.

The paper had contained his phone number with the words _if you ever need anything, don't hesitate._

**A/N: So I wanted to write a post-Inception quick fiction, but I wanted to develop their relationship a little more than it had been in the movie first. So the storyline is actually more of a story line starting next chapter. Will Ariadne call Arthur? Will she lose his phone number? Get kidnapped? **_**Die? **_**=D**

**Reviews are ice cream on a hot day :)**


	2. Just a Job

II. Just a Job

Just two days after he left Ariadne in the airport, his private phone vibrated in the pocket that lined the inside of his suit jacket. He pulled it out and checked the number.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and answered with a casual 'hello.'

"Arthur? Its, uh, Ariadne."

"Ariadne, how are you?"

"I'm fine," she sounded anything but, "I'm sorry to bother you, and I know I'm not really supposed to contact anyone so soon-"

"There's no bother," he reassured.

"Right, well I was wondering if it's normal to have trouble sleeping?" Her voice was pitched oddly, and now that he thought about it, she sounded exhausted.

He exhaled slowly. "Ariadne, have you slept at all?"

"Not since the flight from Sydney," she admitted reluctantly. "I can't shut my mind off, it's like there's... too much."

He nodded to himself, remembering Cobb a year and a half ago. "Cobb and Mal had problems sleeping for a few days after they returned from limbo. Only for a few days though."

"Oh good," She sounded relieved, albeit still exhausted. "Listen, I uh, gotta go Arthur. Thank you so much,"

"It was no trouble. Anytime."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and he waited for her to say something to him, but after a moment, all she said was "Goodbye Arthur,"

"Feel better, Ariadne," he said, and the line went dead.

For a moment, he just listened to the phone, before he hung up as well, sighed, and went back to his paper.

**a.a**

Arthur walked the streets of Hong Kong looking like the average American business man that frequented the city, though he was obviously much more then that. Twenty seven days ago he had slipped a piece of paper into her hand, feeling her warm skin for the briefest of times. She had been a part of his life for only three months, but it felt like it had been years. Now, twenty seven days felt like a life time.

That's not to say he wasn't sufficient at distracting himself, because if he was lucky he only thought of her once every few hours. He spent most of his time doing research of nothing in particular. He only liked facts, knowing more helped in the long run, as he knew well.

He only checked his private phone once a day for any missed calls, though he kept it in his pocket at all times. Only about six people had that that number at some point in time. Cobb, Mal, Eames (unfortunately), Yusuf, an old acquaintance by the name of Paul, and now Ariadne.

He considered checking his phone, but shot the idea down as he turned down an alley way that was a short cut to his hotel. He had the sense that someone had been following him for a long while, and in actuality, the alley way was a decent way of hearing the person following you.

Sure enough, another set of footsteps joined his own, and instinctively, Arthur drew his gun, pivoted on his left leg and aimed at the man who was cast in shadows.

"Careful darling, you may poke you're eye out." A familiar voice drawled carelessly.

"Eames," Arthur mumbled, lowering his gun only slightly, "I should have known."

The man in question walked closer, into the sliver of sunlight that made its way between the two buildings to reveal a smirk. "Why Hong Kong?"

"I could ask you the same," Arthur retorted, turning away and continuing his way to the hotel.

Matching his stride, Eames shrugged. "I'm here to find you,"

Arthur didn't grace him with an answer, only a vaguely interested expression.

"I've had a job offering-"

"Do you think that's wise, Eames, so soon after the Fischer job?" He cut across, exiting the back alley and making a right.

"Its fairly quiet, nothing too showy. But they'll pay well, and I'm bored out of my bloody mind."

"Yes, obeying the law for once must be very stressful,"

Eames snorted. "You have no idea. So, you in?"

"Are you going to explain the job to me first?"

"No time lovey, we got a flight to catch."

Arthur sighed, "And if I were to join you, where are we going?"

"Paris," Eames answered, and then he looked at Arthur with a grin, "Ariadne was much more eager to accept my job proposal."

He was hooked with the simple mention of her name. There was no way he could allow her to work with Eames alone, it was unethical. That's what he told himself over and over as he boarded the plane bound for Paris, as he rolled his die over and over, as his impatience grew with each rising minute.

He had to protect her from Eames, who would no doubt corrupt her brilliant mind.

**a.a**

"Come on in, Eames!" Ariadne's voice called through her door after they had knocked. She was obviously not expecting Arthur to be tagging along, he realized, turning the door handle.

Her apartment was messy, there were papers scattered about, some tacked to the wall showing impossible architecture that they knew to be otherwise in dream space. Her apartment was modern, yellows, greens, oranges. It screamed her personality, and he couldn't help but appreciate it, in a way he had not allowed himself to the one time he had been there.

Eames started fiddling with some things on a bookshelf as they both listened with amused smiles to the noise coming from her room. Drawers slamming and her occasional exclamation, finally punctuated with the quick and squeaky opening of her door.

"Sorry, I couldn't quite- Arthur." her eyes met his, and he smiled at her stunned expression. The way she had said his name reminded him of that night, while she had been asleep in his arms... He shook himself mentally.

"Hello Ariadne, how have you been?"

"Good I guess," she said, suddenly finding it prudent to avoid his gaze. "I've been sleeping well," she informed him, and he nodded happily, but she added, "I don't dream anymore though. I thought it was supposed to take a while."

"No more dreams, darling?" Eames asked, interested. Arthur frowned.

"Well, I think- maybe once..." She trailed off, her face coloring in a way Arthur found incredibly interesting. He watched the color brighten her cheeks, as her lips pressed together.

"Maybe it's an effect of the limbo," he said suddenly, distracting himself.

_Friends. _Friends friends friends friends. Just because she was the first woman he had trusted in a while, did not automatically constitute attraction and love or lust.

Especially not love, and he would never admit to lust. His attraction to her, however, was becoming increasingly undeniable.

"Where's your loo?" Eames asked suddenly, and Ariadne pointed to the only other door besides her bedroom.

Once alone, Ariadne smiled at Arthur. "So, um what have you been up to?"

"I was in Dubai for a while, visiting an old friend, and then I laid low in Hong Kong until Eames ambushed me in an alley."

She smiled, tucking some hair behind her ear. "He only called me. I swear he lives to annoy the hell out of you,"

"Does seem to be a talent of his," Arthur agreed. Ariadne laughed quietly, moving past him to continue gathering some of her things.

"Could you hand me that?" She asked, pointed over her shoulder at one of the aforementioned sketches pinned to her wall.

Arthur examined it before taking it down. It was a brilliant plan for a city, one of the best layouts he'd ever seen. "That's very impressive," he commented, placing it on the pile she had created.

"Thanks," she mumbled, brushing more hair out of her face. "I really-" she trailed off, spinning around suddenly, slamming into Arthur's chest with a shocked expression. She had not thought he was that close to her apparently. Out of instinct, he gripped her elbow's to steady her, supporting some of her weight so that she could regain her balance.

Her hands rested lightly on his chest. "Sorry," she apologized, but neither of them moved. Her eyes were searching his face, for what he could not imagine, but he didn't mind. And as long as she took the liberty, why could he not? He slowly readjusted his hands into a more comfortable position, and he thought he saw her shiver slightly as she bit her lower lip...

Warning lights flashed in his mind, and he jumped back from her, smoothing his hair back for lack of something to do with his suddenly vacant hands. Coworkers, friends, inappropriate...

She reached around him for something she had obviously intended to get while Eames reappeared.

"Ready love?"

"Yeah," Ariadne breathed shakily. "Yeah."

Moments later he was holding the door of a sleek black car open for her. Her eyes met his for a moment, before she thanked him quietly and slid in.

Her look had scared him. It contained questions he wasn't sure he had the answer to.

**a.a**

"So wait, if Cobb won't come back, who's going to be our extractor?" Ariadne asked, leaning forward towards the center of their three man circle. They were back in the warehouse, though due to the approaching winter, it was colder than normal, and the heating system wasn't exactly functional.

He watched her shiver, frowning slightly as he considered both her question and her predicament.

"I am," Eames answered, earning skeptical looks from the both of them. He looked completely unfazed. "I'm just as skilled as an extractor. Not every job needs a forger, but every job does need an Extractor. I've learned to expand my talents."

"And all we have to do is extract the whereabouts of a girl?" Arthur asked, going through the file quickly.

"An eight year old girl," he corrected. "Her parents believe their estranged son abducted her, though he won't admit to it."

"Who's to say the parents are what's best for her?" Ariadne injected. Arthur hadn't thought about that. He could live with destroying the lives of deserving adults, but an innocent child, being forced to go back to unloving, possibly abusing parents? Not something he looked forward to. Leave it to Ariadne to point out the moral issues.

"The relationship with her brother is known to be a very good one, and he cares very much for her. But he was diagnosed with schizophrenia two years ago, and also has a felony record," Eames explained, tossing his own file to the side. "A good relationship isn't enough to make up for the way that girl would be raised."

Ariadne had nothing to say to that, though she still had a slight from on her face. She cared about this girl, someone she had never met or had any reason to care about, and she did. Something added to the list of many things Arthur admired about her.

"How did two suburban parents find out about what we can do?"

"Don't underestimate the connections of the wealthy Arthur," Eames chastised, though he did not elaborate. "Our mark's name is Joseph Ringwald, twenty five. Known for bar hopping expensive hotels and gate crashing corporate balls."

"Two levels?" Ariadne asked, already scribbling notes down onto her pad of paper.

"Precisely. Now, we have two days to-"

"Two days?" Aridane questioned. "Last time we worked for almost a month."

"Jobs like these are much more strait forward," Arthur explained. "Can you make two levels that quickly?"

"Already started," Ariadne said with a smile, briefly holding up her sketch pad so he could see the beginnings of a bar room.

Eames laughed and nudged Arthur, "I think our success rate is going to be much higher from now on with her around,"

She glanced up, met Arthur's eyes momentarily, and then continued with her drawing.

**a.a**

"An elevator?"

"Precisely."

"Me and Arthur, trapped in an elevator, while we wait for Ringwald to pass out?"

Eames smiled as he examined said elevator. The trio was currently on the fifth floor of an elaborate five star hotel Ariadne had created as a part of their first dream level for the job. "Well, waiting for him to pass out shouldn't take too long, assuming you use the right methods," he winked, "But you'll have to wait for me to climb up the shaft to the elevator with the PASIV. Should take about an hour, dream time."

"Is there a reason you have to make everything so complicated?"

"Just covering my bases, love."

"Arthur?" Ariadne asked, turning to gauge his opinion on what she deemed an idiotic plan.

Arthur watched her irritation with flickers of amusement that obviously did not show on his face, but as he listened to Eames's plan, he felt anticipation wrench his gut, but he refused to contemplate why. Instead, he thought over all the reasons this could work well. "I like it," he said, with a glance at Eames, "Don't take that as a compliment though."

"Never darling."

"You _like _the thought of my terrible flirting skills being the thing this entire job relies on?" Ariadne asked incredulously, putting her hands on her hips, but pressing the button on the elevator for the fifth floor.

Eames's smile got impossibly larger. "You could always practice on me, love."

"Watch it Eames, Arthur growled, narrowing his eyes at the man in defense of Ariadne. There was a moment of suspended silence in which Eames merely looked amused, and Ariadne slightly confused.

He felt it was prudent to draw attention away from his sudden protectiveness. "You'd be surprised at the lure a lovely lady such as yourself has on a man," he said, though that really didn't help the awkward silence much, so he hastily added, "like Ringwald. I'm sure everything will work out well."

"Excellent," Eames said, clapping his hands together. "Now, Aridane, you should put a way for me to get into the elevator from the bottom..."

**a.a**

"So, let's go over the plan again."

"We've been over it a million times Arthur," Eames said, walking into the room with a beer and slice of pizza.

"Still, it wouldn't hurt to be thorough." Arthur mumbled, flipping a page in his notebook.

"You are the essence of thoroughness Arthur. And over kill."

"Just shut up already Eames," Ariadne snapped surprisingly. "We all know your opinion on Arthur."

Arthur smiled a bit wider than necessary at the momentary dumbfounded look that came across Eames's face. But the latter merely laughed it off, leaned back in his chair, took a swig of beer and mumbled about Arthur doing 'whatever the hell he wanted.'

"So," Arthur started, "We have the doctors on staff for his surgery paid off. We'll be under for about half an hour in real time, which gives us-"

"Six hours on the first level," Ariadne said, "And five days on the-."

"Second, precisely."

"Look at you two, finishing each other's sentences. How lovely."

Ariadne's cheeks burned, and Arthur pretended he hadn't heard. "Once in the dream, Ariadne finds Ringwald, slips the sedative into his drink, then after a few moments _convinces _him to come up to her room with her-"

"If I can,"

"You can," Eames said with a smile.

"-and I get on their elevator at the last minute. By then the sedative should kick in. The elevator shuts down and we wait for Eames's to show up with the PASIV. Eames and I go under..." He continued in that way, spelling out the job moment by moment. Ariadne was to wait until fifteen minutes was up to give the kick, which consisted of exploding the wires of the elevator, in much the same way Arthur had during the Fischer job, dropping them until they woke. Meanwhile, Arthur and Eames would extract information on the second level as quickly as possible.

It would certainly make for an interesting job, not as dangerous as Fischer's, but he couldn't quite get the thought of spending an hour alone with Ariadne in an elevator out of his head.

**a.a**

For the second time in three days, Arthur was knocking on Ariadne's door, and like before she called for him to come in. He entered, watching her grab a glass down from a cabinet to fill with water, her shirt rising to reveal a few inches of skin on her back. His eyes lingered there unconsciously until the sight was gone, and she had turned to look at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat, looking into her eyes. "You shouldn't really just let anyone in. What if I wanted to kill you?"

"But you don't." she peaked an eyebrow at him and took a sip of water.

"No," he agreed, "but someone else might. Being in this business is dangerous Ariadne."

"But you called me not three minutes ago to tell me you were on your way."

He took a few steps closer to her, until he was leaning against the counter as well, a few feet away from her. "Doesn't mean anything. But I'll forgive you this time." He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

They were silent then, Ariadne drinking her water and both seeming to forget they had a flight to catch to Philadelphia. She broke it though, softly setting her half full glass on the counter, and leaning towards him slightly.

"I need to ask Arthur, before I go insane."

Interest peaked in his mind, and he unconsciously leaned toward her as well. "Yes?"

"Before, on the Fischer job," she said quietly, suddenly too shy to meet his gaze, "You.. you kissed me."

There was a heavy silence, and his heart accelerated. He tried not to think about it when he was alone. In the same room as her, this close to her, that memory was not welcomed. Arthur's life was about planning things out, anticipating every move five steps ahead of when it was made. Moments like this made him feel uneasy and off balance. What was he to say, when he refused to acknowledge the truth to himself even?

"That's not a question," he said slowly, running his hand over his head, and then gripping the back of his neck.

She took a deep breath and a small step closer. "Why?"

He looked down to examine her tiled floors that seemed too dull for an astoundingly creative architect such as Ariadne. He's not good with feelings, and he never has been. But he found himself wanting to give her an honest answer, but he wasn't quite sure what that was, or if it would be what she wanted to hear. At the moment, that kiss had been an impulse, something he'd wanted for a long time, though like everything he'd never admit it, and it was under the pretense that it would draw attention away from them. He'd had weeks to contemplate that moment, but never taken the opportunity. It would only expose weaknesses he wasn't proud of, complications that should not be, and unbidden feelings he'd long avoided.

Now... now he felt exposed to her. He looked up, and her expression held only curiosity, but her eyes showed so much more. He took a deep breath, prepared to tell her whatever lie came to the surface first, but instead-

"I wanted to."

She stared at him for a moment, analyzing his words. His face remained blank, his defenses put up against her rejection.

"I wanted you to, too." She admitted sheepishly, so quietly he barley heard it. But he never got a chance to respond. Ariadne's apartment door had flown open to reveal an annoyed Eames.

"Bloody hell, how long does it take to tell her we're here and leave? I've had the car running, and gas isn't free you know."

Arthur didn't mention the fact that Eames was a multi-millionaire; he was hardly affected by the price of gas. He only felt extremely annoyed, knowing that due to his interruption, the feelings the both of them had laid out onto the table would not get resolved. Not until that hour they spent alone with an unconscious Ringwald on an elevator, in a dream..."

**a.a**

"Can I buy you another drink miss...?" Ringwald said smoothly to Ariadne. Arthur watched from a few seats down at the bar, trying to ignore the impulse to knock Ringwald in the jaw. He was extremely vile at times, that much was certain. But assuming Ariadne's ability to flirt was not nearly as bad as she insisted it was, it should only be a matter of minutes before the three of them would be entering the elevator.

"Grey," Ariande said with a flirtatious smile, "Amelia Grey. And only if you have one with me," she said, winking in such a way Arthur was thrown off guard. He watched as a martini was placed in front of Ariadne, and she reached over, running Ringwald's tie through her fingers loosely before glancing up at him and whispering her thanks.

He took a few gulps of the scotch in front of him.

Ariadne must have managed to get the very powerful sedative in his drinks, because after he had only a few sips, she started to whisper into his ear, and Arthur watched the intrigued, excited look cross his face. They both stood, and Arthur flipped open the phone he knew would directly connect him to Eames in this dream, and starting a pretend argument about a failed business opportunity, following Ariadne and her company to the elevators.

"Hold please," he said, and Ariadne stuck her hand between the doors to stop them shutting all the way. "Thank you," he said, and she smiled pleasantly, as Ringwald wrapped an arm around her waist. Arthur continued his fake argument.

"I'm on my way," Eames said through the phone, and hung up.

Arthur sighed in an angry way, shutting the phone a little too violently. "Bastard hung up," He said to no one in particular.

After a moment, Ringwald still did not pass out, and the Elevator stopped just before the fifth floor, as was planned. It was Eames's who had shut it off, and who was now making his way up the elevator shaft to them.

Suddenly, Ringwald started to laugh. It started really low, and then turned into a full blown laugh. He didn't comment on the elevators malfunction, he merely reached beneath his coat-

Arthur grabbed Ariadne's wrist and attempted to tug her behind him, but Ringwald's grip on her waist was strong, and he soon had a gun pointed to her head.

"I must say, Arthur, I was surprised there was a girl on the team. New addition?" he asked.

"Let her go," Arthur said angrily, staring strait into Ariadne's eyes, which were flooded in fear. This wasn't the Fischer job. If she died, she would wake up, but there were other ways-

A shot rang through the cabin, filled almost immediately with Ariadne's scream of pain. She was crumpled on the floor, a hand pressed firmly to her shoulder, but the blood wouldn't stop. She was screaming and screaming, and somewhere in the midst of all her screaming, he heard his name.

He couldn't breathe. He watched helplessly as she writhed in pain, a gun still pointed threateningly at her.

"No," Ringwald said with a sneer.

"How did you know?" Arthur asked, glaring defiantly at the man. He couldn't stand to watch her any longer. He was afraid of what would happen if he did.

Ringwald laughed. "I set up my own extraction, as a favor to my cousin, the CEO of Colbol."

Arthur felt the blood drain slowly from his face.

"You never finished a job for them, see. It was all too easy to fabricate a story to lure Mr. Eames in for a job. He never was cautious. You should put your trust in more trust worthy people, Mr. Arthur."  
"Let Eames and Ariadne go, then." Arthur said defiantly. "They were not part of the extraction of Saito."

He could feel Ariadne's eyes on him, could hear her ragged breathing now that she had her exclamations of pain under control.

"Mr. Eames, perhaps," Ringwald said in a falsely pleasant tone. "But not this one. Ariadne, did you say? I saw they way you were looking at her down in the bar. I think I'd rather keep her for incentive."

And he shot her, point blank. She was out of pain, she was waking up.

"My men will escort her to my personal home, where she will stay until both you and Mr. Cobb are dead."

**a.a**

Ariadne woke up next to Arthur and Eames, who were still in the dream space. Only she was surrounded by men in formal black suits, carrying guns. Someone ripped the IV from her wrist, and dragged her away forcefully. She was blindfolded, gagged, and carried somewhere. Where, she could only guess.

Moments later, Arthur woke; reaching blindly for the chair he knew would be empty. But he could hear her still, her screams from the elevator echoed in his head, his eyesight blurred with grief and rage. He barley noticed the handcuffs that were attached to his wrist, or Eames waking up uttering a string of profanity.

He feared the worst for Ariadne, and he knew it was his fault.

**A/N: Ahhh, there you have it. It jumps around a bit, but I only want this story to be a few chapters long, or else I'll never finish it. I have commitment issues like that.**

**So, let me know what you think.**

**Reviews are snowdays :)**

**~Kayleigh**


	3. Capitulation

**A/N: When I had this story in my mind, all I had started with was a simple summary. It was '**_**Telling her how he felt had been out of the question at the time. But now as he held her cold, pale hand, he regretted that decision, especially knowing that everything was his fault, and the feelings he felt may have been his last redeeming quality.' **_**So keep that in mind for this chapter I guess.**

_III. __Capitulation:_

_The act of surrendering, or giving up_

Arthur did not remember succumbing to unconsciousness, or why he would have. He only remembered waking up from the failed extraction job with a sense of loss and despair, and a lot of anger. He rubbed his forehead with a groan, having the forlorn feeling that he did not care where he was, only where he should be.

And where he should be was somewhere with Ariadne, preferably somewhere far away where no one would ever find her, and he would protect her, even if that job meant decades of dedication; he would do it.

His eyes were incredibly sensitive to the light, and it took a few moments to coax them fully open. He was in a furnished room that looked like it hadn't seen a good cleaning in fifteen years, and the furniture was nearly as outdated. There were no windows, a solitary door he had no doubt was guarded at the other side, and the armchair he currently resided in, a TV, and a cooler.

As Arthur started to awake fully, his mind started working over time, looking for objects that could be used as weapons, starting with the cushions of the seat, and working his way to the television. Before a plan could be fully formulated, however, the door opened with a bang, and a tall man with more muscle than was humanly possible walked in.

Arthur was a picture of composure. As the man folded his arms and gestured out the door, he merely raised an eyebrow slightly, though he complied with what the brute wanted. He was in no position to fight back, it was best to be led to Ariadne then to attempt to escape and then seek her out. The latter decision may in fact result in terrible consequences.

He stepped into a hallway that was merely cement block walls and a cement slab for a floor that had been painted a rather putrid color green. He wasn't sure what Cobol was playing at, but they could at least afford to find better housing for their prisoners.

He continued in the only direction he could, knowing the bulky man was following with no weapons other than his undeniable strength. Upon reaching the end of the hall, Arthur heard the unclick of a gun's safety, and to the right, two main waited, pointing their weapons at him, as if they would need the defense when a half giant was around.

Arthur sighed, nodded towards them with a painful smile, "Gentleman," he murmured.

"Shut it," one said in an extremely heavy Boston accent, which made sense considering Cobol had its roots in New England.

He kept the smile plastered on his face, heart beating frantically beneath his ribs. He anticipated what he might see, what might be requested of him, what could happen…. But anticipation did nothing to dull the fear that gripped him, or the guilt in knowing that whatever happened to Ariadne, it would be his fault for offering the job to her, for being so eager to see her once more. Emotions so often got in the way, and the one time he had started to believe it might have been worth it, just to see her smile as she bended worlds, the actions taking place had convinced him otherwise. Emotions jeopardized everything; they were not to be trusted.

This decision did not stop his anxiety as the muzzle of the gun came to rest on his temple as a hard metal door was unlocked, and slowly opened. His emotions were just as chaotic as they had been before his thoughts of their downfall, when he saw a room that was nothing less than a cell, four walls of stone and metal, its sole inhabitant a once lively grad student he would have given the world for.

He threw up his walls, willing himself not to give any appearance that the sight of Ariadne, knees drawn to her chest, sitting in a corner refusing to look up at the new arrivals. She was shaking, and her breathing was uneven and coming out in hisses and quickly drawn breaths like a drowning man coming up for air.

"What have you done to her?" Arthur demanded, attempting to take a step to her, but the ogre man grabbed his shoulders to restrain him. The room was tense as she looked up slowly at the sound of Arthur's voice. He saw the blood that made a single, thick stream of blood down the side of her face, and in a moment where raw emotion enacted as it never had before, he let of a roar of anger and struggled violently against the grip on his arms before a fist connected with the temple that did not have a gun pressed to it.

Ariadne made a squeak of horror, and he heard someone yell at her to remain where she was. However, the punch quite literally knocked Arthur back to his senses, and he stood completely still, never looking away from Ariadne, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

Did she feel betrayed by him, rightly blame him for where she was now? Or was it something else she saw in him that made her repulsed to look at him?

"Where is Dominic Cobb?" The man with the gun hissed in his year, too close for comfort. He could feel the man's breath on his neck, hot and moist, and it too all of his self restraint not to pull away. He stared strait forward, determined not to break down for information on his longest friend. "_Where is COBB?" _The man screamed.

Arthur thought of Cobb's children, James and Phillipa, who had lost their mother, and spent a year and a half without a father. They didn't deserve whatever fate Cobol had in mind for their father, and, should Cobol be completely moral-less, their lives could be in danger as well. It was not a hard decision to make, protecting privacy of Cobb and his family.

However, he had not anticipated his captors' next movie.

The giant man's arms remained locked around Arthur's arms, as effective as steel, and the man with the gun took three steps towards Ariadne and ordered her to stand. The blood in Arthur's face drained, noticing further damage to her person. Her legs seemed to be as helpful as rubber, blood was splattered on her torn pants. He didn't want to think about the reasons for her injuries, he concentrated on her face, hoping they were only going to threaten her.

He was torn between his loyalty to his long-time friend and the well-being of said friend's children, or his devotion to the woman before him, who had been in his life for mere seconds comparatively, yet he knew he would die for her, knew he would do anything to see her safe once more.

The man with the gun had wavy brown hair and green eyes, and the kind of face that could have been interpreted as kind if it wasn't contorted in malice and holding a gun to an innocent. He gripped his wrist roughly, addressing Arthur again, "Where is Dominic Cobb or I swear I'll—"

Then two voices rang out at the same time. Together they formed the perfect harmony, but their song sang of sadness and fear. Arthur, without thinking of the repercussions, only of the gun lodged under Ariadne's ribcage, started to say, "You'll find Cobb in—" just as Ariadne shook her head and very nearly yelled, "Please, don't tell him!"

Silence filled the room, and he noticed the tears in her eyes.

"Think of his children," Ariadne whispered. "Their lives are so much more important than mine. I have no family, nothing—no one to live for."

He was shaking his head slowly, horror settling deep in his gut like a parasite. It was eating him from the inside out, stealing away the words he needed to say, and now he couldn't find them. They were important, he knew. But his mind was full of a dull ringing, the kind of ringing that reminded him of when she called him; in distress over sleeping. She had hung up, and he listened to that ringing until it drove him mad.

Despite this, he could only shake his head at her, pleading with her not to sacrifice herself like that, but he couldn't find the words to convince her other-wise.

The faux-kind face of the man with the gun lit up.

"Have it your way, sweetheart."

The world slowed down, like watching the clock on a second dream level. Seconds were twenty times slower, and Arthur struggled against the giant with the most fight and effort he had ever exhibited. His heart throbbed painfully, but he managed to wrench free one arm, and without bothering to stop the momentum, it swung forward as he watched the man's finger begin to pull the trigger.

He heard the shot go off just as his hand connected with the gun.

Arthur knew the consequences could have been even more disastrous. He could have knocked the gun upward, making the bulled lodge itself in the back of her skull, or sideways right into her heart. He heard her cry out, and he himself was thrown to the floor hard enough to make his head spin.

"You have ten minutes to come to a decision. If you tell me where Dominic Cobb is, I'll consider finding her a doctor. Best of the best. Toodaloo," he said with an eerie laugh.

Arthur would have given the exact latitude and longitudinal coordinates at that point, but the door slammed shut before he could find the breath to speak.

She was literally gasping for air, and Arthur knew that sound well. The bullet had punctured a lung, but not central enough for it to kill her in a matter of moments. But she was in agony, he was sure.

Ignoring the black spots in his vision, he dragged himself over to her, repeating her name, over and over and over. It was his new mantra, once of desperation and the crushed dreams he hadn't been aware of in the first place.

"Arthur," she breathed, meeting his eyes finally. They were glassy and a little blood shot. She was rasping out something he couldn't quite make out. She sounded like a long time smoker dying of emphysema as finally her words are articulated enough for comprehension. "Don't tell,"

"But—"

"Don't…. Promise."

He stared at her, and then looked down to the hand that was putting pressure on her wound. There was blood, much, much more blood then he had anticipated, an with a horrible, crushing feeling, he realized she wasn't going to be alive in nine minutes when the man came back for her.

Tenderly, he pulled her onto his lap, ignoring the unfamiliar pressure behind his eyes. He placed a hand atop her bloody one, helping her with the pressure that was not enough to save her.

He brushed sweaty hair away from her forehead, and kissed her tenderly on the back of her head, whispering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so, _so _sorry,"

She gripped his free hand in a surprisingly strong way, squeezing. "Promise," It was barely a whisper, but he knew what she had said.

And what was the point in divulging his friend's location when Ariadne would no longer be around for leverage?

"I promise," he told her, but it sounded much more like a goodbye to him.

They were silent for a moment, and he tried his hardest to ignore everything he was feeling, but he couldn't. He hated fate, and the way it played with you, made you its victim, begging for its mercy. It had held back on such vital information that Arthur felt he had known all along, but unfamiliarity, stubbornness and fear and stopped him from acknowledging it.

Telling her how he felt would have been out of the question at the time, had he known. But now as he held her cold, pale hand, he regretted lying both to himself and to Ariadne, and especially knowing that everything happening now was his fault, and the feelings he felt towards her, fully acknowledged finally in her dying moments, may have been his last chance at redemption.

Arthur needed to tell her, before she slipped away from him forever.

"I love you, Ariadne.'

She said nothing, and maybe she couldn't. Her hand that had grabbed his squeezed weakly, and the hand that rested beneath his over her wound turned to lock her fingers with his. He knew what she wanted to tell him, and he had known all along. It was like a foreign language he was only now coming to understand.

And he held her, until ten minutes passed. He refused to check and see if she was still breathing, or if her heart still struggled to beat without oxygen and blood. But when the doors finally opened, he didn't move.

He heard the words, and his world shattered into a million pieces.

"Ah…. It appears as if I was too late."

_**A/N: Ahhh, I wanna sob. I honestly had no intent on bringing the chapter along this way. I promise to update tomorrow though, and all hope is not lost. I think. I'm going with the creative flow here, but I never really liked Romeo and Juliet, so maybe that will be some hint as to how I might try to turn this around.**_

_**Oh my gosh, I am simply astounded at what I just did.**_

_**Don't kill me .**_


	4. Simply Ariadne

**A/N: Reviews are like crack, seriously. I log on about every 15 minutes just to see if I got any new ones. Everyone has been wonderful, and I would specifically like to thank Ella, Ann, and Kats02980416 for their wonderfully long reviews. I must have looked pretty stupid smiling like an idiot in class today. But that's what I get for utilizing phone internet ;)**

**(Ann, your threats to hunt me down have been taken very, very seriously. As I sit down to write this, I shall endeavor to please you haha )**

_IV. Simply Ariadne_

Arthur was in a daze.

His world swirled around him in a haze of grays; the only color was the crimson that pooled around him, into his hands. It was the worst nightmare, and he remembered the feeling of a small child, convinced the monsters were coming for him.

He could care less about what the man was saying in front of him. He would be full of rage if he could feel anything at all besides utterly soul crushing despair. If it was anyone but the girl in his arms, he would have attacked with everything he had until someone killed him. But he could barely remember how his legs worked.

As something came closer to him, he ducked his head even lower, burying his face into her hair.

Something was happening. He was being moved, maybe. Arthur tried to pay attention, the deepest parts of his mind attempting to revive him, to remind him of who he was, the calm, organized, emotionally detached man everyone relied on. And the part of him that didn't want to fight anymore succumbed to his stronger self momentarily, long enough to hear the words, "They're coming closer. We're done here anyway."

A heavy object, or fist, connected with the side of his head, _hard. _

For a moment his world was being sucked away, then he was moaning. He was on the floor, lying on his stomach. And her body was no longer in his arms, a thought that caused panic to rise up and make a chaotic mess of his reasoning. He sat up and reached around blindly for her, eyes shut tight because one was swollen shut, the other was caked in blood.

"Deal with him."

And he was finally unconscious.

**a.a**

"Arthur."

He was miles below the surface of a lake that let in no light.

"Bloody hell, mate."

He struggled to break the surface, finding it easier and easier the closer he got.

"Arthur, wake up god dammit!"

He opened his eyes, and was greeted with the sight of Eames's face, looking more serious then it probably ever had. It took Arthur a moment to remember where he was, why, and what had happened. Then he wished he hadn't remembered.

His arms didn't feel as heavy as they had before, and he ran a hand over his face, feeling the large bump where his right eyebrow should be. His left eye had opened for him however, and it was with that eye he saw his assumed rescuer. Unless Eames hadn't been let go after the failed extraction, and they were now sharing a cell; in that case they were both royally screwed.

"Finally. Darling, I thought you'd never wake up. Can you stand?"

Eames sounded fairly normal, as indicated by the use of his favorite endearment, though he sounded a little stressed. Arthur did as he asked, focusing on his physical pain rather then the pain of others. Nothing much was wrong with his body in general besides the grotesque bump on his head and stiffness in his limbs. Their unwillingness to comply with his demands were therefore inexcusable, and he told himself this, supporting a fraction of his weight by bracing an arm on the concrete wall.

He started at Eames, refusing to look down at what was inevitably on the floor.

"Can you walk?" Eames further questioned, but Arthur couldn't just leave her here. She wouldn't have a proper burial, or anyone to say goodbye to. Her family, if she had any, would never know what happened….

Somehow, Eames knew what the apprehension conveyed in Arthur's mind meant. "Cobb's taking care of her," he told him quietly.

Arthur nodded, and took a deep breath. "Cobb's here?"

"No questions, no time. Do you want to get out of here or not?"

Their escape was agonizingly slow. For the most part, the building was deserted save for a few bulky sentries (who looked related to the ogre giant man from before, as if they had a breeding experiment going on. Arthur wouldn't put it past them,) who were easy enough to evade for the well practiced evaders.

They exited the building, from the looks of it an old factory, and took unused routes to get to wherever they were going; Eames had muttered something about Arthur's face freaking people out. It was some time before Arthur thought to ask questions. His mind was startlingly blank.

"Where are we?"

"Still in Philadelphia, but as soon as we meet up with Cobb, we're driving to upstate New York." Eames answered gruffly, fingering the bulge in his coat pocket that was surely a hand gun.

Arthur urged all his well practiced composure to remain in place. He wanted to know, but he didn't, however the knowledge would eventually, one day… maybe, bring him peace. "What… what did you do with A-her?"

"What do you mean, what did we _do _with her? She's with Cobb."

Arthur felt shaky, knowing that he would be able to attend her burial, whether it was here or in Cancun. "So… you haven't uh, buried her yet?" His voice was pitched weird on the word 'buried,' and he couldn't look at Eames for fear of his most guarded secret for a while now was plastered all over his face.

"_Buried?" _Eames cried, and stopped walking. He turned to face Arthur, looking at him like he was trying hard to memorize every aspect of his face. "What the bloody hell did they do to you two in there?"

Before Arthur could respond, a car pulled up to the curb, literally screeching to a halt. The window rolled down half-way to reveal Dom Cobb looking a little insane. Eames pushed Arthur into the door behind Cobb's. "Try not to freak out when everything you know turns out to be wrong. It's a bit disorienting," he muttered, running to the other side of the car and getting in.

Arthur, sensing the urgency needed, still approached the car apprehensively. He opened the door, slid in the seat, and the car was off before he had even shut his door. It was only then that he allowed himself to look at the woman who was sitting next to him. She wasn't looking at him, her arm was wrapped a little too enthusiastically in gauze, and her left leg was propped on the center console.

He felt a wave of relieve, nausea, and brief dizziness at the sight of her, alive and breathing. "Ariadne," he whispered, and she looked at him finally. Her cheeks were tear streaked, and her eyes were endlessly spilling over. But she looked at him with relief and partial disbelief, just how he was feeling.

Cobb broke the quiet after they stared at each other for countless moments. He wasn't sure what they were communicating to each other. He was annoyed with Cobb for interrupting his examination of her, taking in every rise and fall of her chest, the color in her cheeks that meant blood was circulating, every sign of life.

If was like seeing someone back from the dead, and in a way, that was exactly the kind of experience Arthur was having.

"She's been insisting you're dead Arthur," Cobb said. "She wouldn't believe me that you were alive when I got her out of that room."

He let out a rush of air, his analytical mind taking the bait and slowly starting to analyze that information. It was exactly as Eames had said, what the hell did they do to them?

Eames answered his question partially. "Classical mind fuck."

"Pardon?" Cobb asked, with a hint of humor in Eames's choice of words. Whatever they two of them were experiencing, Arthur felt detached from it. Like he was hearing their conversation through a wall, from an entirely different room; his eyes were still locked on her brown ones. He wanted to pull her into the safety of his arms, but something was stopping him.

"Mind Fuck." Eames repeated, "That's what the more shady ends of the extraction business call it. I don't remember the official term."

"And it is…?" Cobb prompted.

"You convince your victims their dream is their reality. You have to be very particular in the way you do it, for instance creating the same exact room they're really in for a dream. They also have to be unconscious for entering and exiting the dream. Its tricky to pull off, but if utilized correctly…" He glanced over his shoulder at Arthur, lips pressed together in a contemplating way. "You two are going to have to have a long, private talk. Sort some things out."

The next two hours of the drive were silent, Eames falling asleep and filling the car with snores was the only sound besides the road beneath the tires. Arthur wondered vaguely what his story was, what had happened to him once they woke up from the 'Ringwald' job. But there would be more time to find out. For now, he was content with believing this was his reality, Ariadne breathing next to him, both stealing glances at each other, but still unsure of just what to say.

He was afraid to check his totem, because if this was the dream, and her death was the reality, it would be like she had died all over again, and he wasn't sure his sanity could survive her death a second time. He felt worn, beat both physically and emotionally.

Surprisingly, it was Ariadne who broke the silence.

"Where are James and Phillipa?"

Cobb sighed and deliberated in answering. "I'm not sure." He admitted, and before anyone could predict the worst, he continued, "I had Miles take them, but not tell me where they were going. Its safest for them that way."

Ariadne sighed a breath of relief, and the next three and a half hours to their destination of upstate New York were completely silent.

Somewhere along the way, she had shifted closer to him, not by much, but enough so that she could take his hand in her own.

Her hands were cold, but he was reassured just the same. And at that moment, it didn't matter what Cobb or Eames or anyone else thought of them, he only cared that here, in this dream, this reality, heaven, whatever it may be, she was with him, alive, breathing, and simply Ariadne.

**A/N: Ahhh, there you have it. Remain unsure about the world they are in, or don't. Let me know what you think happened, what will happened, or is happening. I love other people's speculation. Or simply tell me what you thought, I love that too.**

**As I said before, review are crack! Help me slack off in class some more tomorrow! =D**

**~Kayleigh**


	5. All I Need

**A/N: To everyone who favorited/subscribed to/reviewed my story, I love you lots. I hope I get the chance to update again soon, but my semester starts tomorrow, so we'll see =]**

**The song Lyrics are from one of my favorite songs, All I Need by within temptation**

_V. All I Need_

_Can you still see the heart of me?  
All my agony fades away  
When you hold me in your embrace_

Don't tear me down  
For all I need  
Make my heart a better place  


"So were exactly are we?"

The four of them, Cobb, Eames, Arthur and Ariadne were sitting in a dimly lit dining room of a suspiciously vacant house. The reason it was suspiciously empty was because Eames had to pick the lock to get in, and while Arthur's life style did not really allow him to be picky about which laws he broke and which ones he didn't, it wasn't exactly the best choice to break into a house when you're running from a powerful Corporation like Cobol. If there was a break in alarm on the house, they would probably know about it before the police did.

The silent ride north through Pennsylvania and New York had given both Arthur and Ariadne time to collect themselves, and Arthur at least was doing much better at appearing normal. Her small, warm hand in his had calmed him and made him more and more certain that this was in fact reality. He could go back to being the emotionally aloof, critical, precise Arthur that he was, he had even stopped into a bathroom at a rest stop two hours back to fix his hair. A collected outward appearance was as reassuring as a child's security blanket.

"We're in one of the port towns on the Erie canal," Cobb answered Arthur's question, not even glancing towards him. He was holding his cell phone, thumbs hovering over the numbers as if debating if he should dial or not. He had worry lines creasing his forehead, and the corners of his mouth were tilted downwards slightly into a frown. Everyone knew who he wanted to call, and the dilemma he faced. If he called, he would be reassured of his children's safety, but it could also put them in danger.

Arthur took the brief pause in conversation as an opportunity to observe Ariadne. She had her head resting in her hand, which was propped up on the table, and her eyes looked distant and vacant. He felt sick to see the shadows of bruises forming around her eyes, across her cheek bones. Arthur wanted to find whoever had done those things to her and make them regret it, but that was out of the question at the moment; if he ever got the opportunity though….

The sound of Cobb's cell phone falling to the table echoed in the silent room. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. A clock chimed on the hour somewhere in the house, and Eames coughed a couple times. Arthur could hear Ariadne breathing; he could hear his own heart beat. There was awkwardness in the room, separating the rescuers from the tortured. Everyone sensed it, and after many more prolonged minutes, Eames stood up and asked Cobb for help with something in the car. They left talking quietly amongst themselves.

If either of them thought that would help Arthur and Ariadne talk, it didn't. He deliberated over what words to use, knowing that talking about it would make him remember things he didn't want to, the pain he had felt holding her dead in his arms, his anger, his confession….

Arthur swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Ariadne?"

She looked up at him slowly, their eyes meeting, her light brown eyes meeting his dark blue ones. She looked at him, not even blinking, and he looked back, completely forgetting what he was going to say to her. He watched as her mouth started to quiver, and she bit her lip in an attempt to hide it, but she couldn't. Arthur saw the tears gathering in her eyes, watched as one spilled over, her breathing hitching and more tears fell.

Something broke in him, his guarded persona he had worked hard to get back the past seven hours shattered and he wanted to take her pain away. The thing about this table was that it was small. Whatever family lives or lived here was not very big, and he was thankful that it took little time at all to drag the chair a few inches closer to her and pull her into his arms. He held her as firmly as he could without hurting her, and her hand gripped his arm desperately while the other arm snaked around his neck to pull herself closer.

She cried into his shoulder, and he held her, whispering her name and comforting things without realizing it. After an immeasurable amount of time, she slowly stopped crying. They were silent for a while, taking comfort in each other's presence, but then she slowly pulled away, just far enough so that she could see his face. Their noses were practically touching, and as much as he didn't want to, he remembered who she was, and while he suddenly knew where he stood emotionally with her, he didn't know how she felt about him. As it was, he knew it was wrong in the first place, and so regretfully he pulled away from her slightly, enough so that he wasn't as strongly tempted to lean down and crush his lips to hers. To put it bluntly.

She asked the question they had all been wondering. "What happened to us?" her voice was raspy but clear. He knew she was strong, and that she would strive to recover from what happened as soon as possible, because that was who she was. Resilient and strong; something he admired in her.

He himself was a master at avoiding issues all together, instead of confronting them head on and deal with them so that he could move on. Her question was one he had tried to avoid, but also being Arthur, he had to know the logistics of everything. Avoidance had not won on the car ride, and so he thought endlessly about it.

"They must have had a forger, like Eames," he told her quietly. "They manipulated us into thinking the dream was real…."

She looked into her lap for a moment then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What happened with you?"

"They tortured and killed you, to get me to give up information on Cobb," he said blandly. He tried not to remember, tried not to see her blood, and her face contorted in pain.

She said nothing, and wouldn't even look at him.

"Do you mind if I ask…?"

"The same thing," she mumbled.

Arthur's eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "They tortured me in front of you? For what information?"

She shook her head slowly and looked up at him. "No… they t-tortured me in front of you, for information on Cobb." He froze, muscles locking up. "I thought I was dying, but when I woke up you were d-dead."

Arthur's eyes were fixed on some point above her head, mind reeling. Had they not been the victim of a forger, but of some elaborate manipulation? He couldn't quite wrap his head around it. She had really felt all that pain, it had really been Ariadne who died in his arms…. But that doesn't explain how she saw him dead.

"It must have been a two layered dream," she whispered softly.

He nodded, putting the pieces together. Without thinking, he took her hand in his, watching as his own thumb ran slowly across her knuckles in silent contemplation. "It was brilliantly planned…" he murmured. "They left me alive in the second layer until you were convinced I was dead, using a forger or projection, then I rode the kick through two layers…."

But then there was the silence that followed, and he knew what they were both thinking about.

_But now as he held her cold, pale hand, he regretted lying both to himself and to Ariadne, and especially knowing that everything happening now was his fault, and the feelings he felt towards her, fully acknowledged finally in her dying moments, may have been his last chance at redemption. _

_Arthur needed to tell her, before she slipped away from him forever._

"_I love you, Ariadne."_

Arthur didn't regret telling her per say, but he didn't know how she had accepted that confession from him, a confession that took only the darkest of moments to wring out of him. He was detached usually, fighting the feelings he felt for her because he _shouldn't _feel them. But now they were out in the open, but she didn't comment on it, and he was left wondering.

"You two about done?" Eames asked, poking his head into the room.

Ariadne pulled away from Arthur quickly, blinking her eyes rapidly and trying to smooth down her hair.

"Smooth Eames," Arthur mumbled, standing up. "Are we staying here?"

"For the night," Eames replied, looking over his shoulder at something. "There are three bedrooms, Cobb and I will share the master." He rolled his eyes. "I wanted my own room, but he insisted you two would want your privacy tonight."

Arthur sighed in relief, but a part of him wanted to keep tabs on her all night. "There's always the dog house Eames,"

"Nice to see your stuff humor is still in tact darling," Eames rolled his eyes and made to exit the room.

"Can I take a shower?" Ariadne asked, she was standing now as well. Actually, she was standing on one foot, her injured leg bound around the knee in blood stained gauze was hanging limp.

He knew she must be wanting to wash away the day (days?) events, but he wasn't sure she would be up to it. "Will you be alright with just one functioning leg?" Arthur asked.

"I'll manage," she said defiantly, taking a couple small hops towards the doorway.

"You can take a shower," Eames answered her question, "But don't use any soap, we don't want the owners becoming suspicious." He left the room without another word, whistling under his breath.

Ariadne continued to hop little distances at a time before Arthur felt concerned she wouldn't even make it there. He crossed the room in a couple strides to her. "You'll exhaust yourself before you even get there," he told her.

She paused for a moment, but said, "I'm fine."

"Liar," he said quietly. "Let me help you."

"Okay," she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder for support, but he went even further and bent down to pick her up, careful of her leg. She said nothing, but rolled her eyes.

He went along the hallway, realizing that neither of them knew which of the closed doors was the bathroom, so he opened them as he went, revealing a closet and two bedrooms (the first of which had been the master bedroom, and had also been followed by a moment of tangible tension between them,) but at last he found the bathroom. It was tastefully decorated in blues and chocolates. He slowly set her down on the tiled floor, and from behind there was a light rapping on the open door.

Cobb stood there with a stack of fabrics. "Towels and some clean clothes. They're just some emergency things I had in the truck, so they'll be big on you…" he offered in explanation.

"Better then nothing," Ariadne said sighed. "Thanks Cobb,"

Cobb nodded, "There's some clean bandages there for your knee too. Let us know if you need anything," he said, and it was a dismissal for both him and Arthur. Arthur took one last look at her, and then exited the room with his long time friend. He was uncomfortable with letting her out of his sight for the first time since their hasty rescue, but he could hardly sit in the bathroom with her while she showered… completely n—

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut tightly, appalled at himself. He allowed himself to be led back into the dining room, and answered Cobb and Eames' questions. He told them almost everything that had happened (he left out obviously embarrassing points,) and elaborated on what he and Ariadne had figured out.

"I didn't think Cobol would go this far to get back at us for failing on Saito's extraction," Cobb said. Eames had already been filled in on that failed mission, and he rolled his poker chip in between his fingers while he considered the facts. "Maybe they want you for another job?"

"They would have offered first," Cobb said, rubbing his chin.

Arthur nodded. "I doubt they would have gone to these extremes unless we refused and they weren't willing to accept that."

"Maybe we were guinea pigs," A voice said from the doorway. There stood Ariadne, wearing ratty plaid pajama pants and a huge white T-shirt. Her hair was wet and tangled, but Arthur wasn't sure there was anything wrong with that. Their eyes met briefly, but she looked away after a moment.

As she entered the room, Eames replied to her comment, "Well whatever you were guinea pigs for, they most likely failed in completing whatever they were trying."

"Still… why them?" Eames muttered. Then he stood and cracked his knuckles. "Well, I haven't slept in almost forty eight hours. Until tomorrow ladies," Forty eight hours? Arthur had a sinking feeling in his gut. That was a long time to be exposed to any number of Cobol's supposed experiments.

He dimly acknowledged Cobb excusing himself too, and once again he was alone at the table with Ariadne. "Are you tired?" he asked her. In reply she yawned and nodded.

Arthur stood, and she did too, though she wobbled a bit. He went to her side immediately, and offered to carry her again, but she politely declined. So he supported most of her weight with one arm around her waist, while her better arm was around his shoulders.

They stopped in front of the first door, a guest bedroom by the looks of it, and she stopped for a minute, slowly dropping her arm from his shoulders and turning to face him.

"Arthur?" She said quietly, her face coloring, and he suddenly knew what was coming. His heart pounded frantically. "Did you mean it?"

What she meant by 'it' was undeniable. He opened his mouth to answer her that yes, in fact he had. But nothing came out. He was tongue tied, and something in him wouldn't let him tell her. He hated his cowardice, hated it with all he had as his eyes searched her face for some inkling that she understood. Her face was inquisitive and serious, eyebrows slanted up, eyes wide. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. The words still wouldn't form.

"Ari…" was all that came out. It wasn't a nickname, it was the inability to finish her name, for her expression had changed so completely it caught him off guard. She must have forgotten she was an invalid, because she went to shift her weight to her left leg, which gave out beneath her.

Arthur's hands caught her round the waist, and he pulled her back onto her feet, but his hands didn't leave, and the same expression plastered her face. It was wonder and… acceptance? He wasn't sure how to explain it, but then again, he could never quite find the right words to explain _her. _

She was closer to him now after he caught her, and he could swear she would be able to feel his heart racing, or even hear it. He inhaled as she came closer, and she smelled sweet, natural. It was intoxicating. Arthur hadn't realized her hands were on his chest until they slid up to his shoulders slowly. Her hands took hold of the collar of his shirt, hand she slowly drew him down to her. She was giving him a choice to back down, but he couldn't, he wouldn't.

Softly, her lips pressed against his, and they moved together slowly, the hands at her waist moving further to flatten on her back. It wasn't rough and passionate, but it wasn't chaste and sweet like their first kiss on the Fischer job. She was telling him something he only understood with his heart, but he couldn't put it into words.

She pulled away slowly, and he rested his forehead on hers, eyes closed savoring the moment.

"I don't expect anything from you Arthur." She told him quietly, and he opened his eyes to look at her questioningly. "If you want to take it slow, or not at all, I accept that," she said the words, but there was pain in her eyes. He felt deeply gratified that she understood him so well, and he knew without a doubt that she understood his hesitancy, even if she didn't know completely _why. _Because she was Ariadne, their architect; she paid attention to the smallest of details, even the ones concerning Arthur.

He wasn't sure what pace he was ready to take this at, but he knew he couldn't ignore her any longer, and so he kissed her again, much in the same way, then whispered to her, "I couldn't stay away from you anymore if I wanted to,"

She smiled at him, wrapping her arms around him with her head on his chest. After a long while, he tried to pull away slowly, but her grip tightened.

"Arthur, I…." she trailed off, looking embarrassed. "I don't want to be alone tonight," he met her eyes, and they were full of fear for what would greet her when she closed her eyes to sleep. He stared at her for a moment, and she backtracked. "I know I said I wouldn't rush you or anything, but—"

Arthur was shaking his head as she spoke. "No, no. Of course I'll… I'll stay with you, if that's what you really want."

She looked relieved and thankful. Together they slowly went into the guest bedroom. It was white and a light colored green, reminding Arthur of his grandmothers house, a recollection from years and years ago. He sighed at the memories he didn't want to recollect, though there were few memories from his past he looked on with happiness, as he helped Ariadne across the room to the edge of the bed.

"I'm going to get cleaned up," he told her quietly, and she nodded.

He made his way into the bathroom, once there he gripped the edge of the sink as if it were holding him to the earth, not gravity. He stared at himself in the mirror, noticing the swelling from his bump had gone down significantly, enough so that he could open his right eye now.

He thought of Ariadne, waiting up for him in the other room. He splashed some water onto his face, watching the water run into the sink in a slightly brown color. He needed a shower, but first his hand plunged deep into his pocket, find the red die.

Arthur gripped it with white knuckles, knowing this was the moment of truth. Seemingly in slow motion, he released the die onto the bathroom counter and watched as it rolled, then it stopped.

He let out a breath of relief at the three that faced him.

Ten minutes later, he pulled back the blankets on the other side of the bed from Ariadne. Arthur laid on his side, facing her, and she rolled over to face him. Her hand sought out his, and their fingers laced together. Together, they fell asleep.

_I've tried many times but nothing was real  
Make it fade away  
Don't tear me down  
I want to believe that this is for real  
Save me from my fear  
Don't tear me down_

Don't tear me down  
For all i need  
Make my heart a better place

**A/N: =D hope you all enjoyed, and I hope the explanation in this chapter of what happened was adequate enough for now. Obviously we'll find out more about Cobol's plot. I think. I'm perfectly happy writing a few fluffy chapters about Arthur and Ariadne falling deeper and deeper into love, but it needs some sort of plot line.**

**Please don't disappoint, review even if you hate it =D**

**~Kayleigh**


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